The year-end draws near, its footsteps treading through frost. Starting today, I will publish a series of articles filled with the festive flavors of Xixiang, including "Slaughtering the New Year Pig," "Catching Fish by Car," and "Making Syrup." These words, redolent of wheat from the threshing ground, will take you back to the twelfth lunar month of your memories: watch as sugar melons stretch into shining strands before the stove, hear puffed rice crackle and bloom in the iron wok, and smell the fragrance of rice drifting over the gray tiles when the steamer is lifted. Let those childhood memories touched by frost and snow grow warm and vivid again, word by word.
